Proof of Death
by bluecrush611
Summary: Sequel to my story Proof of Life. SWAT team leader Deacon Kay and his wife, Detective Reagan Kay, have worked hard to build the life of their dreams. But when a new case threatens that, they will have to dig deeper than ever before to protect all they hold dear. [Deacon/OC]
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: It's been a while, but I'm back with a sequel for Deacon and Reagan. If you haven't read the beginning of their story (Proof of Life), then I recommend reading that first! If you have and you're here for part two, then THANK YOU for all of the kind words and support! **

**I'll update when I can! In the meantime, enjoy! :)**

* * *

Black Betty charged down the Ventura Freeway into Pasadena, fancy shops and take-out restaurants zipping by in a blur of bright colors. Officer Dominique Luca sat behind the wheel, focused on the task in front of him as concrete disappeared beneath the tires.

"A call came in saying that a man is holding his girlfriend hostage and threatening to commit suicide after she tried to break up with him," Sergeant David 'Deacon' Kay said to his team. "Our suspect is twenty-two years of age, Caucasian, and armed with a handgun. We've been advised to handle the situation with delicacy. It sounds like he needs help—not a body bag."

"So bean bag rounds on this one," Sergeant Daniel 'Hondo' Harrelson added, holding up his shotgun.

Officers Jim Street and Christina 'Chris' Alonso nodded in response as Officer Victor Tan said from his spot in the front passenger seat, "You got it, boss."

"Two minutes out," Luca announced.

Deacon reached under the neck of his shirt and bulletproof vest, grasping the cross necklace there.

_Lord, protect us. Help me get home to my family…_

He mouthed an 'amen' and glanced over at Hondo, who watched the ritual with his own solemn expression.

"How are Cassie and the kids?"

At that, Deacon smiled. His wife, Reagan Cassidy, had helped on their SWAT team a while back, before they were married, earning her the nickname 'Cassie.' Even though she had since adopted the last name Kay, the team still called her by her nickname.

"They're good. Lila's taken to making slime, which drives both Reagan and I insane." He chuckled. "Matthew is less crafty, taking after his old man. He says he wants to grow up and arrest bad guys like his Uncle Luca."

"That's my lil' man!" Luca said, grinning and gesturing with one hand, but keeping his eyes on the road.

"He does realize we all do that, right?" Street asked.

Deacon laughed and shook his head. "Uncle Luca tells him stories—more than he probably should. They have a lasting impression."

"He has that effect on people," Tan commented.

"Aw, thanks guys," Luca said.

"I don't think that was meant as a compliment," Street said.

"You're just jealous," Luca shot back.

Street scoffed. "Damn straight I am. Matthew's the coolest kid I know."

"Yeah, thanks to his Uncle Luca," the man himself added.

They all chuckled.

Deacon looked around at the co-workers who had become friends and then his family. "We finally finished our patio renovation. Reagan wanted me to extend an invitation to you guys for a barbeque later this week. I know the kids would love to see you all."

"We wouldn't miss it," Hondo replied, earning nods of agreement from the other team members.

"All right, twenty seconds," Luca announced, which forced them all to get focused once more.

They rolled up to a conservative split-level ranch and parked along the road, exiting the vehicle in an orderly fashion. Deacon quietly led the group forward until they reached the front door. Pushing it open, they announced their presence and moved room-to-room with practiced efficiency.

No one appeared in front of them, least of all, armed. Hondo indicated an open basement door and Deacon nodded, stepping aside for the other man to take point. At the bottom of the stairs, a purple glow illuminated the surrounding walls and furniture. Directly ahead of them, someone occupied a computer chair and made no acknowledgment of their sudden presence.

Suddenly, the man said, "What, Chat—?"

"LAPD SWAT, put your hands up and turn around slowly!" Hondo called out.

The man, looking more like a twelve-year-old boy in person, threw up his hands and spun around. His wide eyes moved between them as he ripped off his gaming headset. "For reals?" he stammered, laughing nervously. "Somebody seriously swatted me?"

Deacon frowned in frustration and lowered his weapon. "You're a gamer?"

"Yeah…" the young man said, almost as if he was unsure of a correct response.

"You're not threatening your girlfriend?"

He let out another short laugh. "No, I don't have a girlfriend. I wish!"

Deacon shook his head and gestured toward himself. "All right, away from the computer. What's your name?"

"Crypto."

"Excuse me?" Deacon asked.

"Crypto. That's my stream name."

"I get that, but what's your real name?"

"Oh! Sorry. Ben..."

"Okay, Ben, we need to go upstairs and sort out some stuff. Just pause your game…"

"I can't pause it."

"_Ben_."

"Yeah, okay, loud and clear. Be right back, Chat!" he said into the microphone on his desk.

The team exchanged a deflated yet annoyed look between them. "I really wish people would stop doing this," Deacon said to Hondo.

The other man nodded.

They escorted Ben upstairs, and as he passed them, Deacon heard him mutter, "I'm gonna get so many subs from this."

* * *

Men were disappearing.

Detective Reagan Kay sighed deeply and ran a hand over her weary face.

How many more men needed to go missing for this to be taken seriously?

Her co-workers said it was a classic scenario of mid-life crisis: Husband gets tired of wife, finds mistress, leaves wife. Reagan would've believed it herself if the details fit, but they didn't. These men were from all different backgrounds—some with wives and girlfriends, some without. Some had families, others didn't.

She'd tried the online lover angle; maybe a catfish gone bad. She'd stripped their computers and what few phones she had until she thought she knew more about these men than they did themselves.

All Reagan had gotten was more questions than answers.

The men in relationships seemed happy, and their text histories backed that up. It was possible she had overlooked something hidden on purpose, but in these last seven years as a LAPD detective, she'd learned to explore those routes first.

And so far she'd turned up zilch.

"Kay!"

_Oh shit._

Her name coming out of her boss's mouth in that tone was never good.

Lieutenant Cole appeared in his doorway and snapped his fingers, not-so-politely indicating for Reagan to come into his office. She pushed away from her desk and let out another sigh. As she walked across the main room filled with other detective's desks, phones, and filing cabinets, her coworker Whitney whistled quietly.

"You're in for it now, Kay."

Reagan forced a sweet smile. "Maybe he wants to give me a promotion."

Whitney released an unflattering laugh. "That'd be the day. Just give me the signal and I'll call hubster for you."

Reagan walked backward for a moment and huffed out a breath. "I don't need Deacon to fix my messes. I can take care of myself!"

"Let me hear you say that in five or twenty minutes..."

Reagan turned around with an eyeroll and came face-to-face with her boss. His stale coffee breath lingered between them and she subdued a grimace.

"Close the door behind you," he said, and spun to round his desk, plopping down heavily in the worn computer chair.

She made no move to occupy the seat in front of him, hoping it would keep his lecture shorter than normal. It probably wouldn't work, though.

"Detective, why is it that we have no leads on these missing persons cases?"

"Sir, I—"

"Kay, I have vouched for you over and over again! You assured me you could handle this case. You _wanted _this case. Meanwhile, I have three homicides on the back burner and people who want answers!"

"I understand—"

"I don't think you do! You've been a great detective for us up until recently. You've been backsliding."

"Yes, sir, I've had a lot of family obligations lately."

"We all have families! If you need some time to deal with that, then apply for leave. I'm sure Deacon can make up the difference financially if you need a break."

Reagan felt something in her snap. Maybe it was a blood vessel. "I don't need a break! You want results? You'll get them! Just give me two more weeks. I'll dig deeper, follow other leads."

"What leads? You haven't given me anything!"

"I'll get you something by the end of the week. I promise."

"Detective, you know the first rule around here is: Don't make a promise you can't keep."

"I know. That's why I said it. I'm confident I'll have something soon."

* * *

Reagan pulled into the driveway behind Deacon's SUV. She sat for a moment and let her gaze wander over their suburb-lite home, its windows aglow from probably every single light being turned on and never off. Deacon was terrible at shutting off lights, but Lila was worse.

It didn't matter, though. She was happy to come home to this. She needed light right now, and that's what her family was to her.

She got out of the car and noticed one of Matthew's Paw Patrol stuffies laying on the driveway. She snatched it up and walked inside, brushing it off as she entered.

"I'm home," she announced as she set Chase on the entry table.

"Mommy!" Lila jumped up from the couch and ran over to hug around her waist.

"Hey, darling. How was your day?" Reagan kneeled down to face her eight-year-old daughter.

Lila smiled, showcasing a gap between two teeth.

"You lost your tooth!"

"Yup!" Lila shuffled across the room and then returned with a plastic, tooth-shaped container. "I was wiggling it with my tongue and it came out right in the middle of art class!"

"No way! I hope you didn't bleed all over your art project," Reagan teased.

Lila giggled. "Eww, no! It didn't even bleed!"

They both smiled and a deep voice came from the hallway next to them.

"At the rate she's going, the tooth fairy will have to take out a second mortgage."

Reagan looked up at Deacon as he wiped his hands on a dishcloth, dark eyes twinkling at her. He still wore his work uniform of boots, cargo pants, and a black t-shirt with the LAPD emblem. His biceps bulged as he crossed his arms and leaned against the doorway.

After ten years of marriage, all it took was one glance and Reagan still wanted to jump his bones.

"What's a mortgage?" Lila asked, screwing up her face and breaking the moment.

"Something you won't have to worry about for a long time!" Reagan said, and stood to accept a quick kiss on the lips from Deacon.

"Did you have a good day?" he asked as Lila ran off.

"Meh, but it's better now." She smiled and snuck another kiss, allowing herself to fall into his strong embrace. They parted and she inhaled. "Something smells good."

"That would be chicken and vegetables, hot off the grill."

She hummed in response. "You're the best." Looking around, she asked, "Where's Matthew?"

"Where do you think?" he said with a smile, and headed back down the hall.

Reagan turned into the living room and found her five-year-old son hypnotized by the television, his small fingers diligently pressing buttons on an Xbox controller.

"Hi, baby," she said, and cradled his head with one hand to kiss the top.

"Hi, Mommy," he said, not looking away.

"How's the world of Minecraft today?"

"I found a village with a blacksmith! Look at the treasure I got!" Matthew pointed at the screen and named each item in his inventory.

"That's so cool! Now what are you doing?"

"I'm filling it with zombies," he said, using the creative mode to throw spawn eggs.

Reagan's eyes widened in mock surprise. "Why would you do that to those poor villagers?"

Matthew grinned at her response. "Don't worry! I'm going to clear each house just like Uncle Luca and save them all!"

Reagan laughed. "You know Daddy does that too, right? And Mommy a long time ago."

"Yeah, like the Avengers..."

"Oh...yeah, okay, I'll take it."

"Matthew, dinner's ready. Come eat," Deacon called from the kitchen.

"I'll just eat here."

Reagan stood. "Nope, table tonight."

Matthew groaned and didn't budge.

"It's a race and I'm gonna win!" Reagan said, starting to move toward the hallway, which would take her the 'long way' to the dining room.

That got his attention. He threw down the controller and scurried off in the opposite direction.

She fast-walked down the hall, through the kitchen, coming into the dining room a moment after him. "Ugh, you win!"

He grinned triumphantly and hopped into his usual chair at the table.

Lila sat down across from him with her plate and Deacon slid a full plate in front of Matthew.

After getting their own food, Reagan followed Deacon into the dining room to occupy either end of the oval-shaped table.

"And how was your day?" she asked him.

He sighed as he settled into his chair. "Not bad actually. We only got one call and ended up swatting some poor gamer. Though, he didn't seem to mind it all that much..."

Reagan shook her head. "When will people stop doing that? It's a waste of the city's time and resources."

"Daddy, you swatted a guy? My teacher says it's not nice to hit people," Matthew chimed in, talking through a mouthful of chicken.

Deacon cracked a smile. "No, buddy, I didn't hit anyone. This word means something different."

Afterward, the discussion continued to spiral, allowing no room for adult conversation. Reagan welcomed it, though. She loved this time with her family.

When the table was cleared, baths given, and children put to bed, Reagan joined Deacon in the kitchen to help dry the dishes he'd just washed.

"How's the missing persons' case coming along?" he asked, passing her a plate.

"Not well. Cole gave me two more weeks to come up with something, but I'm not sure if that will be enough. There's just no evidence that links these men together..."

"It's out there. You just have to find it."

Reagan shot him a look. "Easier said than done."

Deacon stopped, dried his hands, and turned to Reagan, resting his hands on her hips to pull her close. She looked up at him and knew her eyes showed more self-doubt than she wanted to let on.

"You are an amazing detective and police officer. I've seen you overcome things that most men couldn't have, even me."

She smirked. "That's not true."

He gave her a gentle smile. "I don't think you remember where you came from. You worked and hustled your way up from the ground floor. You've proven yourself. Whatever evidence is out there will be found, and you're exactly the person to find it. You know why?"

"Why?"

"Because you never give up, Reagan. And if there was only one person to handle my own case, I'd want it to be you."

She fought a blush and lost. "Mr. Kay, you know just what to say to a lady."

"I know what to say to _my _lady." He closed the space between them and angled his head to kiss her deeply, breathing in her scent.

"You know I love you, right?" she whispered.

He nuzzled his nose against hers and tugged her hips closer. "Probably not as much as I love you." The playfulness in his gaze was not lost on her.

"Oh so it's a competition?"

"Yeah, it's a race, and I'm going to win," he said, slipping past her and heading toward their bedroom.

She laughed and began to chase after him, knowing that no matter who got there first, they both would win.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Weird times we live in right now, huh? I hope this finds you in good health. I'll update when I can. It's hard to find writing time in my house when I'm trying to be a teacher on top of being a mom! *Insert crazy face here***

**Enjoy! :)**

* * *

By the time Saturday evening rolled around, Reagan hadn't made much headway on her case. She'd given some potential leads to her boss, hoping it would be enough to keep him satisfied until next week. But she still found herself in the front of the computer in her home office, following up secondary leads so she'd have a head start on Monday. The silver bracelets on her wrist jingled together as she typed away.

"There you are," she heard from the doorway. Deacon stared back at her with a slight frown. "Everyone's going to be here in a few minutes."

"I'm sorry. I just wanted to finish some things I started working on yesterday." She stood up and adjusted her navy blue and white striped tank-top, which was tucked into a pair of dark skinny jeans. A messy bun and sandals completed the outfit.

"Have I told you today how pretty you are?" he asked, smiling, as he slipped an arm around her waist to press a kiss to her forehead.

A faint blush stained her cheeks. "Possibly, but you can tell me as often as you want."

"Just enjoy yourself tonight. Even the bad guys need to sleep."

She sighed as they left the room and headed down the hallway. "I know. It's just hard to turn it off."

"I completely understand. That's one of the hardest parts of the job, but also what makes you great at what you do."

"Thanks, baby," she said, hooking her arm into Deacon's and leaning her head against him for a moment.

The doorbell rang and Reagan offered to get it so he could start the grill out back. When she opened the door, Chris and Street stood on the other side.

"Hey, guys!" She stepped aside to let them in and greeted each with a warm embrace. "I'm sorry we haven't had you over sooner! Work's been a bitch."

Chris smiled. "You don't have to apologize to us about that. We know how it is."

"That's true. I suppose you do." Reagan loved these guys. They were her people and they always knew what to say to make her feel better.

"How's the case goin'?" Street asked. "Deke said you've been working your ass off."

"It's going somewhere. Not sure where yet, but I'll figure it out. Hopefully sooner rather than later."

They nodded in understanding.

Street looked around. "So where is Deke anyway?"

"He's out back, manning the grill. Go on out and help him if you want."

Street smiled at Chris as he headed in that direction.

Reagan caught the intimate look between them and waited until Street was out of earshot to say, "Seriously, when is that man going to put a ring on it?"

"Oh, would you stop with that?" Chris teased. "We're not a traditional couple. We don't have to be married to love each other and have a healthy relationship."

Reagan put up a hand. "I hear you. I'm sorry. You know how excited I get at the prospect of a wedding."

Chris smirked. "I seem to remember a time when you didn't want to rush into things with Deacon..."

"Yeah but that was like ten years ago...which was about when you and Jim got together! I mean—"

Chris shot her a silencing look.

"Okay, I'll stop. I guess being with David has turned me more traditional than I used to be."

"And there's nothing wrong with that. You guys have a beautiful family. Just because I don't want the picket fence and 2.5 kids, doesn't mean I can't see why people would want that. If you really want to rag on somebody, here comes Luca..."

The blond and his strikingly gorgeous girlfriend ascended the porch steps, and they all swapped hugs.

"Hi, Keri! How are you?" Reagan asked the woman, receiving a shy smile in return.

"Good. Luca and I just got done teaching a class at my gym. Do you mind if I use your bathroom to freshen up for a minute?"

"Not at all! You know where it is."

When they heard Keri close the bathroom door behind her, both Reagan and Chris turned to Luca with pointed expressions.

"What?" he asked, his usually beaming mouth turning down at the corners.

Before they could answer, two children raced past them and practically tackled him in the entryway.

"Uncle Luca!" Lyla and Matthew yelled in unison.

"Where's Auntie Keri?" Lyla asked, not missing a beat. Reagan had a feeling she would ask the other woman for something beauty related, since Reagan was so terrible at it.

"She's in the bathroom. She'll be out in a minute," he replied.

"Yay! I'll go get my brush and elastics..."

They all laughed and watched her go. Meanwhile, Matthew tugged on Luca's hand.

"I wanna show you what Daddy got for me! Come on, it's this way."

As Luca got dragged away by the much smaller male, Reagan stage-whispered to him, "We're not finished!"

"We didn't even start!" he hissed back in confusion, and then disappeared around the corner.

Before the two women could say anything to each other, an SUV pulled into the end of Reagan's driveway.

"Aw, I didn't think they would make it," Chris said.

"Come on, let's give 'em a hand," Reagan added, smiling.

They walked to the vehicle and Reagan held out her arms to hug Bonnie as the other woman closed her car door.

"Hey, mama! How're you doing?" Reagan asked.

"Oh, you know, hanging on by a thread. Victor insisted I could stay home if I was too tired, but I had to get out of there. I love my children, but my God…"

They both laughed.

Victor Tan came around and hugged Reagan with one arm, his other holding their newborn daughter, Ariana.

"Hi, Ari! How are you, darling?" Reagan swept a finger under the baby's chin and received a gurgled grin. "Oh look at that smile! You are so stinkin' sweet."

"You got the stinkin' part right," Tan said with a grimace.

"I'll do it," Bonnie said, sighing.

"No way, I've got this." Reagan reached out in offering and both parents obliged in lightning speed. Before she knew it, Tan had handed her Ariana and Bonnie slid the diaper bag onto her shoulder. Suddenly realizing an absence, she asked, "Where's Eli?"

They all looked into the vehicle and saw Chris snuggled up to the seven-year-old boy in the backseat, giving him tips to win the game on his handheld Nintendo.

"You know you can take that inside, right?" Tan called out.

They barely glanced up, and Eli said, "Be there in a minute!"

Reagan smiled at the couple. "Go ahead and meet the others out back. We'll be there in a jiffy, right babydoll?" she asked Ariana, earning another gassy grin.

Reagan headed to her bedroom, giving the baby a little tour since it was her first time visiting. When she reached her bed, she spread out the changing pad from the diaper bag and laid Ariana on top of it.

After a quick change, Ari was as good as new. They walked to the kitchen and threw away the dirty diaper, but before going outside, Reagan stopped and looked at the scene on their new patio. The vision of smiling faces—her entire family—made her heart feel like it would overflow with love. Deacon was right; she'd needed this.

"Quite a sight, huh?"

Reagan glanced over her shoulder at the familiar voice, mirroring the grin from Hondo. He gave her an embrace that only he could give, and smiled at the new life in her arms.

"You and Deke have another baby and not tell me?"

Reagan laughed. "Hey, you never know." She looked back outside for a moment. "He's such a good father. It's hard to say no to him, if you know what I mean."

Hondo chuckled. "I do. He puts the rest of us to shame. He really needs to knock it off."

Reagan laughed even harder. When she was done, she said, "It's really good to see you, Hondo."

"Likewise. We miss you on the team."

"Those were the good old days, weren't they?" She smiled and looked around. "Where are Jessica and Maya?"

"Jess is out of town for work, and Maya's out back already."

Reagan looked outside and saw the five-year-old girl sitting with Lyla and Keri, her chocolate-brown curls getting pulled into matching pigtails.

"Thank God for Keri," Hondo said. "I'm no good at that stuff when Jess is gone."

"Hey, that makes two of us." They both chuckled. "You hungry?"

He patted his washboard stomach. "Starved."

* * *

Deacon flipped a burger and took a swig from his beer, almost choking on it when Street fired a joke at Luca's expense.

"Why is everybody ragging on me today? What did I do to you guys?" Luca asked.

"You just make it too easy," Deacon replied. "And what do you mean by 'everybody'?"

"Your wife and Chris. They kept eyeing me like they were mad or something. All I did was walk in the door!"

"That's all it takes, man," Street said.

Deacon cracked a grin and looked across the patio when the back door opened, revealing Hondo, Reagan, and Ariana. The teasing and bickering drifted away as he watched his wife hold the baby closer to her chest, adjusting the blanket to protect Ari from the early-evening breeze.

The sight floored him.

He hadn't realized how badly he'd wanted to see her like that again, not since…

Deacon flipped another burger patty and cleared his throat, taking three long swallows of beer. God had other plans for him and Reagan, and if they were meant to have only two kids, he'd take it. He considered their family more blessed than most. Some couples struggled to get pregnant. They were fortunate enough to have two happy and healthy children. He was eternally grateful for that. But it still wouldn't stop the ache from blooming in his chest when he was reminded of their internal pain from six months before.

* * *

When Reagan met Deacon's gaze, she knew what he was thinking even from the other side of his aviators. The bottom of her stomach dropped away and a bit of that warmth in her chest fell with it.

This evening was too good. She didn't want to think about that heartbreaking day, but her memory had other ideas…

They hadn't even known she was pregnant. Yeah, they hadn't been taking any precautions, so the hope had been there. If only she'd taken the right precautions in her job. It was a sore spot in their marriage now—perhaps the only one. If she suspected she could be pregnant, she needed to ask for desk assignments. But when the opportunity had arisen for her to take down a long sought-after perp, she'd seized it. Reagan didn't realize she would walk away with more than physical scars when the perp got the jump on her and kicked her twice in the stomach before her partner got there to assist.

They hadn't told anyone, choosing to keep their private pain as it was. Maybe that had been their second mistake.

But it was all in the past. There was nothing they could do now to change what happened. Reagan learned from her mistake and wouldn't dare make it again. They had their faith and each other, and at the end of the day, that was enough for her. Add two beautiful children and she was more than blessed.

Looking around again at the abundance of life, Reagan willed herself to leave the past where it belonged. She didn't want Deacon to be sad, especially right now.

Reagan walked, uninterrupted, toward her husband and greeted him with a slow kiss. She touched his cheek and smiled softly.

"I love you," she whispered.

She saw the tension melt from his shoulders and felt the strong rhythm of his heart under her palm as she moved it to his chest.

"I love you, too." His voice was low, rough.

"Somebody wants to say hi," she said, lifting Ariana a little higher.

Deacon removed his sunglasses and Reagan admired the dark lashes around his equally dark eyes—her weakness.

"Hey, sweetie," he began, gently squeezing one of the newborn's tiny stockinged feet. "Is Auntie Reagan taking good care of you?"

When the baby smiled, Reagan said, "You know it. But it's probably time for me to give someone else a chance to hold this bundle of cuteness."

"Dibs," Hondo said from the other side of the grill. He set down his beer bottle and came around to take Ariana into his arms. The baby looked significantly smaller in his strong embrace and his level of attractiveness went up a couple of notches, if that was even possible. He talked to her in a voice reserved only for small children and animals, and Reagan assumed all the women there melted a little bit from the sound.

"It's probably a good thing Jess isn't here," Reagan said. "I bet she'd be asking you about making Maya a big sister."

Hondo laughed. "You might have that backwards. To be honest, we've had the discussion. She's been so busy with work; it would just have to be the right time."

"You keep waiting for the right time and it might never come," Deacon said.

"True. We aren't getting any younger, that's for sure," Hondo said, sighing with a smile.

"Speaking of," Reagan said, turning to Luca. "When are you going to put a ring on it? I mean, come on. Look at her."

They all glanced over at Keri as she continued to help each girl with their hair. She laughed at something one of them said, and Reagan chose that moment to look back at Luca pointedly.

"Is this why you're mad at me?" he asked, shocked.

Reagan gave him a teasing smile. "Don't avoid my question!"

"Yeah, I've been wondering this myself," Hondo added.

"Jeez, guys. You gotta give me more credit!"

Reagan narrowed her eyes. "What does that mean?"

Luca shrugged and hinted at a smile. "Maybe I've already got it covered."

Reagan inhaled and let out a small squeal.

Luca pointed at her. "But don't say anything, okay?"

Reagan crossed her heart. "I promise."

"It's about time, man," Deacon said, smiling. "Congrats."

"Don't congratulate me just yet. She's still gotta say yes."

Reagan laughed. "I don't think you need to worry about that. Keri adores you."

"Who do I adore?" a woman asked from behind them.

They all turned to look at Keri, who was joined by Chris and Bonnie. No one immediately volunteered to speak.

"Well this baby, of course," Hondo said after a moment, offering Ariana.

Reagan covered up a snort and nodded in agreement. She glanced at Deacon, who did the same. Luca just looked at Keri, adoration shining in his eyes.

"You got that right," Keri said, taking the baby without pause.

Shouting, from kids and adults alike, rose up behind the group. They all looked to see Street and Tan getting attacked by Matthew and Eli, who wielded Nerf guns and wore bandanas.

Luca nudged Hondo and they jogged across the yard, grabbing two more toy guns from a plastic storage bin. But instead of retaliating, they also fired foam darts at the two SWAT officers.

Tan yelled, "Oh it's on!" and circled around to grab a weapon, which happened to be the last one. "Everyone get Uncle Jim!"

Street, who was now the only one without a Nerf gun, put out his hands and shouted, "Dude!"

Laughing, they all shot darts at him until he was curled up on the ground.

"I surrender!" he cried from behind his hands.

Cracking up nearby, Reagan said to Deacon, "And here I thought you guys had the night off."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I'm sorry it's taken me so long to update. I'll try to do better. I hope you all are staying healthy and happy!**

**Enjoy! :)**

* * *

Reagan returned to work on Monday with renewed energy. Her job could be so wearing, but family always brought her back to center. They got it. They got how hard a personal life was to maintain; how, meanwhile, other lives hung in the balance—people who needed someone to take notice and give it everything they had.

And give it everything was what she aimed to do.

This week was her last shot. If she didn't come up with answers, the case would go cold and those lives would effectively be over. She wished her job was as easy as a cop procedural on TV—everything tied up with a nice bow in 45 minutes or less.

But this was real life, and sometimes it got a little too real.

After pouring a fresh cup of Whitney's motor oil coffee, Reagan settled behind her computer and got to work. She felt like she had scoured every bit of information at their disposal but knew she was missing something. There had to be a connection…

She decided to go back to the cell phone data they had collected. It seemed as if everyone kept their whole world inside their device. If she was going to find something, it would most likely be there. Starting with social media, she cross-referenced contacts, but was surprised to find no overlapping friends. Los Angeles was a big city, but many online users had thousands of 'friends.' The lack thereof made this case even more confusing. What did these men have in common?

Next Reagan checked location check-ins. Maybe they didn't run in the same circles, but a mutual location would be a decent lead. It took an hour and lots of scrolling to discover that three of the missing men had checked into a computer repair shop all during the same week two months before. Coincidence? She hoped not.

Grabbing her blazer, she left the office and drove her unmarked Ford Edge to the location in question. The Tech Shop was a sizable business sandwiched between a beauty parlor and an insurance office in a well-kept strip mall. As she exited the car, she noticed a sign on the door that said, _Stop! Have you tried turning it off and then back on again?_ Reagan smiled. Their department's IT guy always asked that question first, like an officer reading off Miranda rights. They'd quickly learned to do that first before bothering him, as it usually fixed the problem.

When Reagan stepped into the shop, she was hit with a blast of AC. A young woman with blue hair looked up from the laptop on her desk and subtly gave Reagan the once-over.

"Can I help you?"

Reagan flashed her badge from where it was clipped to her belt. "Detective Kay. I'd like to speak with someone about a few of your past clients."

"I can probably do that. I've worked here since we opened."

"Okay, great." Reagan glanced at the woman's name tag. "Carrie, are you able to access information about these three men?" She listed off the names and Carrie typed like mad.

"The first guy has been in a couple of times. He needed an enlarged hard drive and extra virus protection. Seemed pretty normal. Your second guy only came the one time. Just between you and me, he was difficult."

"What do you mean by difficult?"

Carrie glanced up from her screen. "He was a dick."

Reagan coughed lightly in order to cover up a laugh. "What did he do?"

"He wasn't happy with any of the work we did. His computer was a dumpster fire to begin with—just a shitload of porn—excuse my French, but I thought we'd made good with what we had. I guess not."

"What about the last man?"

"Patrick Hayward? He was a regular. Big gamer. He had his dickish moments, too. Thought he was the next Ninja."

"Who's Ninja?"

Carrie's upper lip curled. "The streamer?"

"Oh, yeah." Reagan had no idea. "So he could be unpleasant to deal with?"

Carrie shrugged a shoulder. "He was okay. Most gamers like to talk to each other; it's like a nerdy little club."

"And he didn't?" she asked, jotting down a few things in her notepad.

"Not with me. Some guys aren't ready to accept that girls like video games, too."

Reagan scoffed.

"Let alone be better than them."

"It's the 21st century. Sounds like they need to get with the program."

Carrie rolled her eyes. "You're not kidding."

"To your knowledge, did any of these men know each other or interact while they were here?"

"I don't think so, but that was months ago. Come to think of it, I haven't seen Patrick in a while. He's seriously overdue for some maintenance."

Reagan closed her notepad and put it away. "That's why I'm here. All of these men are missing and I'm trying to get to the bottom of it. If you remember anything else that could be important, please give me a call." She handed over one of her cards. "Would you be able to get me the names of everyone who worked here two months ago?"

"Sure, no problem." Carrie typed away again and printed a short list of names.

Reagan thanked her and walked back to the car. She closed the door with a sigh. It wasn't much to go on, but it was a start.

* * *

Upon arriving at work that morning, Deacon headed to the locker room to put away his bag. When he opened the door, Hondo walked in and smiled, opening his own locker.

"Mornin'," Deacon said in reply. "Hey, thanks for coming over this weekend. I know it meant a lot to Reagan. And me as well."

"I only went for her," Hondo said with a teasing grin.

"Even if you were serious, I'd take it. She's been so stressed out about this case. She needed a break."

"Yeah." Hondo cleared his throat. "It looked like you two had a moment, by the grill. I don't mean to pry, but is that all that's going on?"

Deacon glanced at the picture in his locker: Reagan walking hand-in-hand on the beach with both of their children; the same beach where they'd shared her house before expanding their family from two to three. He then looked around, confirming that no one else was in the room.

"Do you remember when Reagan ended up in the hospital a few months ago?"

"That perp who attacked her?"

"Yeah. Well, we didn't know it at the time, but she was pregnant. She miscarried."

"Man, Deke, I'm so sorry. I had no idea."

"No one did."

Hondo's expression softened. "Why not? Why wouldn't you say anything? You lost a child…"

Deacon winced before he spoke, trying to contain his emotions. "We were afraid it would turn into a manslaughter charge."

Hondo's anger rose up momentarily. "That asshole should be charged."

Deacon shook his head. "Not him—Reagan. We were afraid the department wouldn't see her side—that she didn't know." He closed his locker and leaned against it, facing the open expanse of the room. "At the end of the day, she still has to live with it. And that's bad enough."

"I still think you should talk to somebody, for your own sake. Maybe Wendy?"

"No, I can't risk involving her." Deacon looked at Hondo and smiled sadly. "But I really appreciate being able to talk to you about it."

Hondo reached out and they exchanged a half-hug. "You can always trust me, man."

At that moment, Street and Luca walked in.

"Hey, guys, what'd we miss? Everything okay?" Street asked as the two men separated.

"Yeah, it's all good," Deacon said, pasting on a smile. He missed the doleful glance Hondo sent his way.

Luca unzipped his bag as he said to Hondo, "I didn't see Jess in her office. Is she back from her trip?"

Hondo refocused and pasted on the same smile. "She is! I think she's got meetings all day."

"I know Reagan was bummed not to see her this weekend," Deacon said, and then paused in thought. "Actually, we're free tomorrow night. What would you all say to drinks at O'Malley's?"

"I'd say hell yeah," Street answered, with Luca agreeing.

"What about you and Jess? Could you make that work?" Deacon asked Hondo.

The man nodded. "Count us in. But are you sure you two want to spend a free evening with us?"

Deacon lifted his shoulder and gave Hondo a wry smile. "We won't be there all night."

* * *

Later that day, after receiving word from Commander Hicks about a situation in Baldwin Hills, the team mounted up and headed out. When they rolled up in Black Betty, Deacon noticed Captain Cortez standing beside one of the LAPD's surveillance vans. Figuring that she must have been pulled from her meetings, he had to wonder what kind of situation they were about to tackle.

She must have noticed their vehicle, because she started to head their way. As they exited, Hondo approached her first. The couple didn't kiss, and Deacon wasn't surprised. None of them were supposed to mingle or show intimacy on the job—even if they were married.

"What've we got?" Tan asked, glancing at a dilapidated house behind the van.

Before she could respond, gunshots rang out from the house, along with the sound of breaking glass. They all ducked and listened as a man began to shout.

"_You fuckers need to find my brother! What're you waitin' for?"_

"Good question," Street said to the others. "Why aren't we moving in on this guy?"

"We have reason to believe that he has hostages, and he claims the doors are rigged with explosives. Problem is we can't get him to confirm any of it. Anytime we try to drop off a phone to negotiate, he starts shooting," Cortez stated.

Hondo scowled. "Well we've got to make contact."

"Do we know who his brother is?" Chris asked.

"One of the responding officers heard the name Gage Brooker."

Something in Deacon's mind reacted to that name. "He's missing, right?"

Cortez frowned. "Yeah. How'd you know?"

"He's one of the guys we've been hearing about. That's Reagan's case."

"Do you think she might have better luck with this guy?" Cortez asked.

Deacon sighed, the feeling uncomfortable in his chest. He really didn't want her in this nutjob's vicinity, and Hondo must have seen it because he said, "We'll keep her safe. You don't need to worry about that."

Reluctantly, Deacon pulled out his cell phone and speed-dialed Reagan's number. It rang so many times, he didn't think she would answer, but at the last moment, she did.

"David?"

"Hey, I'm on a call right now and I think we could use your help," he began, trying to suppress his fear of her being in harm's way.

"I know."

He opened his mouth to continue on about Gage Brooker, but her words stopped him. "What?"

From behind him, he barely heard Street say his name. When the other officer's voice became more insistent, Deacon spared him a glance. Street simply pointed at the nearby broken picture window. When Deacon spun around, his fear could no longer be controlled, because Reagan stared back at him, her phone held to one ear, and a shotgun at the other.


	4. Chapter 4

Reagan took in Deacon's shocked expression, his eyes wide, mouth slack.

_"Reagan,"_ he said, his voice packed with eleven years of love and devotion.

The sound shredded her heart.

"I know. I'm sorry," she whispered.

"That's enough!" said the man with a gun to her head—Gage Brooker's brother.

She'd gone to the house to follow up on her lead, wondering if maybe he would know something about the computer repair shop, hoping they could find a connection to the other missing men. Winston Brooker had greeted her with pent-up hostility and a shotgun.

_"You should have found him by now!" _he'd said, forcing her inside. He'd taken her weapons and phone, and thrown them on the coffee table littered with takeout boxes and cigarette butts. _"You cops need to stop fucking around! Are you it? Are you the best they could do?"_

Reagan had taken a deep breath and done her best to hold his wild gaze. _"I've been working on this case non-stop. Yeah, the LAPD has told me to put this on the back burner, but I won't do that. You and I, we're on the same side."_

Wrong answer. Winston fired a warning shot into the wall behind her. _"Bullshit!"_

Her ears rang and she couldn't keep the quiver out of her voice, but she managed to say,_ "We are! I want to find your brother and I won't stop until I do. But I need your help."_

_"Some cop you are!" _Another smattering of buckshot ripped through the air.

Reagan tried not to take it personally. She had thought about mentioning her own missing brother, a man she hadn't seen since he'd left her on the hospital doorstep more than a decade before, but figured that would only backfire—literally. If she didn't know where her own brother was, how could she find Gage's?

She needed to press forward. By now someone would have heard the shots and called the police. She even suspected that someone had been walking on the sidewalk when he'd met her at the door, weapon in hand.

Back up would come, but she'd have to survive until then.

And by some twist of fate, it came in the form of Deacon and his team. Of course it had been them…

Winston snatched the phone from her hand and put it to his ear, holding the gun on her while she put up her hands and he peeked outside. He may have had a touch of the brain fever, but he wasn't completely stupid; he made sure Reagan blocked any possible shots coming from the outside.

"You in charge?" he asked Deacon.

She couldn't hear her husband's reply but could see his mouth moving. Through it all, his gaze never left hers.

Winston jabbed her in the back with the shotgun and she saw Deacon flinch.

"So you're not her boss?" His words were accusing and she could tell they were losing control over the situation. Winston wouldn't stay halfway rational for much longer.

Considering her options, Reagan reasoned that this had gone on for way too long anyway. Once she made sure Deacon was still focused on her, she touched her thumb to her opposite finger, wiggling her wedding ring. Deacon's dark eyes flitted to watch the movement. When he realized what she was doing, he angled his head slightly and gave her his trademark glare.

She was saying, _I love you_, and that was enough to warn him of her next move.

After taking a deep breath, Reagan closed her eyes. She opened them as she ducked and spun, thrusting her hand upward to hold the barrel of the shotgun. She barely heard Deacon yell for everyone to get down as Winston fired a wild round. Dry wall rained down from the ceiling as she attempted to twist the gun away from Winston. At the same time, she drove her other palm up and into his nose, breaking it on contact. Blood poured out as her phone clattered to the floor.

"You bitch!" he shouted.

They struggled over the gun but he swung it back around, the barrel making contact with her temple and cheekbone. She went down hard.

Luckily, her distraction had worked long enough to allow Deacon's team close in and disarm Winston before he could shoot her.

Hondo pinned Winston as Luca secured the shotgun. The moment Deacon made sure of this, he hauled Reagan into his arms.

"God, baby…" he exhaled, his hard chest heaving against her own. He cradled her head in his hands and pulled back far enough to inspect her injuries. "What were you thinking?"

Reagan winced as his thumb gently brushed the tender skin below her eye. "I was thinking that I'd had enough."

Deacon looked into her eyes now and his brows drew together. "That was too close, Reagan."

"I know," she murmured. "But it comes with the territory."

He seemed to want to say something, but a medic had moved in, needing to check her head wound. Reluctantly, Deacon let her go.

Apparently, that was also a wrong answer.

* * *

The next evening, Reagan put on makeup to cover her bruises and, when she was done, admired her handiwork. It didn't really sit right that she was getting so good at it.

She'd curled her long dark hair into voluminous waves, and applied bright red matte lipstick. After putting on her favorite body lotion, she stepped into their closet and chose a skin-tight black dress that pushed up her breasts and showed off her tan legs. She glanced in the full-length mirror and smiled.

Two kids later and she still had it.

Reagan grabbed her clutch and slipped on a pair of red slingback pumps. She walked down the hall and into the kitchen, finding Deacon at the sink with a cup under the faucet.

Upon the signal of her approach—two heels on hardwood floor—he said, "My mom came and got the kids. They said the movie starts in a couple hours so they'll get dinner first. I'll pick them up after work tomorrow…"

Deacon trailed off when he finally turned around and caught sight of Reagan.

"Oh, Mrs. Kay, that should be illegal," he said, his twinkling eyes roaming over her curves. He clunked his glass on the counter, instantly forgotten. When he met her gaze, his smile was filled with promises. "You look amazing."

Reagan returned the smile and tipped up her chin to receive his kiss. Deacon's hands rested on her hips and moved to her backside, squeezing until she was pressed fully against him. He deepened the kiss by angling his jaw to one side, and she allowed herself to get lost in it.

After a few breathless moments, he said against her lips, "I don't think I can let you go out like that."

"Well you're gonna have to. I am way too excited about a night out." She brought her hands up to caress his rough cheeks and ran a thumb over his bottom lip. Deacon lightly caught it between his teeth, his tongue touching the pad. "But I promise you, later tonight, I'm all yours, Mr. Kay."

He let out a low growl and she felt the vibration all the way to her core. "You better believe it."

* * *

They arrived at O'Malley's exactly on time—something that didn't happen much since having kids. After walking in, Charlie greeted them from behind the bar. Even though a lot had changed for them in a decade, Charlie was a constant. The only noticeable change was that his beard had grown longer, rivaling Santa's best, and the forty pounds that had come off his frame after a bypass surgery.

"Date night?" Charlie asked, his brows raised but coming nowhere near his receded hairline.

"You know it," replied Reagan with a wide smile.

He gestured behind the long counter. "The usual?"

"Yes, please. Thanks, Charlie," she said, Deacon's hand on the small of her back, guiding her further inside.

They spotted Chris and Street sitting in the back at their booth, with Luca and Keri standing next to the table, presumably having just arrived as well.

"I'll get our drinks. Go on ahead," Deacon said, his eye softening on Reagan.

They snuck a quick kiss—it was Date Night, after all—and then she turned back to walk across the room toward their friends.

"Hey!" they all exclaimed in greeting. Reagan exchanged a hug with Luca and Keri, the latter saying, "Wow. Look at you."

Reagan laughed. "Lipstick and heels! Not the usual attire for a detective, I'm afraid."

Keri smiled. "You always look stunning."

"Thank you. As do you."

Someone tapped Reagan and she glanced over her shoulder. Deacon held out her glass of wine and took a sip of his bourbon on the rocks, a stray from his usual.

"It must be a special evening. You don't have a beer," she said. "I take it I'm driving us home?"

"Is that okay?" he asked, pausing before taking another drink.

"I don't mind at all." Her eyes held a glimmer of mischief.

Deacon leaned in and his soft breath warmed her ear. "Are you trying to get me drunk, Mrs. Kay?"

Reagan turned her head and allowed her lips to touch his ear, the same as he had. "Possibly. Maybe I want to have my way with you."

Deacon pulled back far enough to meet her eyes, his own flaring with heat. "You don't need me to be drunk for that to happen," he said, his voice thick with desire.

"Hey! Hope we haven't missed the fun!" Bonnie said from nearby. Tan held her hand and was talking to Hondo and Jessica, who must've gotten to the bar at the same time as them.

"We're just getting started!" Luca announced.

* * *

After about an hour of catching up, the song changed on the jukebox and it caught Reagan's attention, instantly transporting her to a decade before. Eric Clapton's husky voice had her glancing across the table at her past fling, and to her surprise, Street stared right back. He seemed to hesitate, and then a slow smile graced his handsome face.

_You wanna?_ he mouthed.

Reagan shrugged and looked pointedly at Deacon. Street swallowed hard.

"Hey, man. Would you mind if I danced with Cass?"

Deacon appeared somewhat taken aback, but relaxed when he saw Reagan's waiting expression. "Uh, sure. Though, it goes without saying—you try anything and I'll break your kneecaps."

Chris laughed. "You'd have to get in line."

"Jeez, guys, give me a little more credit," he said, and kissed Chris's forehead before scooting out of the booth.

Reagan met him on the other side and they walked out onto the small dance floor, which held a few other swaying couples. She clasped hands with Street as he put his opposite hand on her waist, keeping his distance far more than he had on that memorable night so many years before.

"I hope this isn't too inappropriate," he said. "I couldn't help myself—for old time's sake."

"I wouldn't worry about it. We're far past who we used to be. You're practically my brother now. It'd just be weird."

Street chuckled. "Same." He cleared his throat. "Actually, speaking of brothers… How're you holding up since that incident yesterday?"

"Fine. I'm a little shook, but it's nothing I can't handle."

"I hate to pry—"

"You never have to worry about that."

He gave her a gentle smile. "I couldn't help but wonder about your own brother. You haven't mentioned him in years, not since Mexico."

"It's funny you say that. I actually thought about him yesterday, too."

"You spend so much time looking for all of these missing people. Have you ever looked for him?"

Reagan shook her head. "I don't want to find him. For his safety and my own. I have a family I have to think about—a new family."

Street frowned.

"I know that sounds harsh, but I think he and I had a mutual understanding. If I let him go, he'd never put me in danger again."

"I can't imagine how hard that must be for you."

Reagan squeezed his shoulder. "Thank you, but I think you do."

Street's own mother had disappeared eight years ago when her antics began to put both of their lives in jeopardy.

"I guess you're right," he said, smiling sadly.

* * *

Meanwhile at the booth, a few of them had gotten up to dance or order more drinks. Deacon sat back and watched Reagan and Street together. He wasn't jealous—not really. That part of their lives was far behind them, and he trusted Street. Reagan, too.

Instead, he took a moment to appreciate the delicate column of her neck where it met the curve of her jaw. His eyes ran over her hips and muscular legs with complete reverence.

"Deke, you gotta keep those wandering eyes in check. What would your wife think?"

Deacon looked at Luca where he sat next to him, and smirked. "All I know is she's coming home with me and that dress is going to be the first thing to go."

Luca cracked a grin and lightly punched Deacon in the shoulder. "You dog."

Deacon matched the grin and continued to admire his wife from afar as Luca spoke.

"Has she recovered from yesterday?"

His expression fell slightly and he took a swig of beer—his second—before answering. "Perhaps a little too well."

Luca scowled. "What does that mean?"

"Between you and me? I think she's getting too used to the dangers of the job."

"It is her job, Deke…"

He shook his head. "She has a life outside of her job, and I think sometimes she forgets that."

Luca shifted in his seat. "That's a two-way street, man."

Deacon knew the other man was right but couldn't admit it out loud. "Something's gotta give. We can't keep tempting fate. Lila and Matthew deserve more than that."

"It sounds like you and Cassie need to talk about this."

Deacon sighed. "I know. I can't imagine it will be pretty, though. I'd like to save it for another time."

Luca's eyes danced with amusement. "I think that's a given. You need to enjoy tonight with your lady."

"As she dances with another man…" Deacon joked.

* * *

Long after the song had ended and Reagan was back by Deacon's side, he was more than ready to get her home. They both had to work the next day, but their evening wasn't over yet.

The couple wished everyone a good night and then drove home in silence, only one thing on their minds, but when they reached their driveway, neither of them exited the car. Instead, Deacon picked up Reagan's hand where it rested between them and pressed her palm to his lips. He gently kissed the tender skin and met her eyes across the quiet expanse of her SUV. Reagan saw the darkness in his own, inky black pools of lust—and maybe a touch of inebriation.

At the same time, they reached for each other. She was always in awe of Deacon's strength and this time was no different. He easily lifted her over the center console and into his arms. She straddled his lap and her dress rode up, the scratchy denim of his desire rubbing against the thinly veiled area between her legs. While one of his hands tilted her head so his lips could have better access to her neck, the other moved purposefully between them. His fingers hooked her underwear to one side, allowing them to explore her velvet heat that throbbed with wanting.

Reagan whimpered and Deacon kissed his way across her jaw, his teeth nipping before his mouth closed over her own, absorbing the sounds that escaped. She reached for the button and zipper on his jeans and fumbled it open. Reaching into his boxer briefs, she released his erection and stroked it between her hands. He released a grunt and pulled back far enough to make eye contact.

"I've wanted this all night, Reagan. I've wanted you. This dress… those legs…" He made a pained expression. "You're gorgeous."

Suddenly, he touched her hot center once more and his gaze flashed when she drew in a breath.

"And so damn wet for me…"

_What's gotten into you? _she wanted to ask. Deacon rarely did dirty talk. He was usually all about the lovemaking—not that she minded something different once in a while—but this seemed unlike him.

She didn't have time to give it another thought as he kept her underwear pushed to one side and brought her hips down around him. She cried out, the only other sounds now their heavy breathing and the rustling of fabric. He tipped his forehead against hers and thrust into her again.

"It feels so good to be inside you," he murmured, and then placed another scorching kiss on her parted lips.

"And it feels so good to have you inside me," she said, trying to match his level of passion.

Deacon's fingertips pressed into her backside and she wondered if she'd have bruises the next day. It didn't bother her, though; she could feel her pleasure building, leading her to the incredible pinnacle that teetered between living and dying.

"David…" Her breath hitched as she took him in as far as she could and held him there while he reached his own release. Warm spread out from her center, racing to the ends of her body, as if her bloodstream had been set ablaze.

When they both came down from their high, Reagan became aware of the fact that her chest was exposed, having been bared at some point during their wild romp. Deacon's unkempt hair and absence of a tie—not to mention half the buttons on his shirt—clued her in to the fact that she'd lost control almost as much as him.

Neither of them spoke a word as they straightened their clothing, gathered their things, and finally headed inside.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: I'm sure you all share my excitement in hearing that SWAT will be back in less than three weeks! I don't know about you, but these Covid months have been super long without my weekly fix. So here's another chapter to hold you over until then.**

**Thanks for continuing to review, follow, and fave! Your support means so much to me. **

**Enjoy! :)**

* * *

The next evening, Reagan sat around the dinner table with her family. Lila and Matthew talked about their day with their usual animation, happy to share what their parents had missed while at work. Lila had aced her spelling test, and Matthew had made friends with a new kid at school.

"I'm so glad you two had a good day," Reagan said, grinning. She treasured this time with her children. It was filled with love and positivity (for the most part), which was so far from her job. It provided the balance she needed in her life.

As Matthew pushed out his chair, Deacon said to him, "It's your turn to clear the table. Lila—"

"Does this mean I need to load the dishwasher?" the girl interrupted, her voice a slight whine.

"Yes."

Her whine intensified.

"Lila…"

"Fine," she said with a huff, moving away from the table and clomping into the kitchen.

Reagan snorted. "I don't know why she acts like she's surprised; they take turns every other night."

Deacon's expression softened. "It's just what they do. I'd actually be surprised if they didn't complain."

Reagan laughed. "True."

A moment of silence passed between them and their eyes connected across the table. Reagan could tell that Deacon wanted to say something, but before she could ask him about it, her cell phone rang. She glanced at the caller ID and sighed.

"It's work."

"Go ahead." Her husband would always understand the demands of their field, but Reagan didn't miss the flicker of frustration that passed over his features.

She answered the call.

"Detective Kay." She listened to the officer on the line, said, "Okay, I'll be right there," and hung up.

Deacon exhaled. "You need to go in?"

"Unfortunately, I do. There's been a homicide and I was given the case."

"Okay. I'll get the kids to bed."

Reagan got out of her chair and walked over to Deacon's. He leaned back to look up at her.

"Thank you," she said softly, and brought her lips down to his, savoring the brief moment together. "Don't wait up for me. Who knows how long this will take."

"How long have we been married?" he teased, but his smile didn't quite reach his eyes.

Reagan stroked his beard-roughened cheek with her thumb, mirroring his sad smile. "I suppose I don't need to tell you that, huh?"

"Just be safe."

She tried to ignore the anxiety in the pit of her stomach at the unspoken words between them. Nodding, she said, "Always am."

* * *

When Reagan arrived at the scene—a driveway in a cul-de-sac of Suburbia, USA—the first thing she noticed was the scent of blood. A strong coppery tang floated on the warm nighttime air, and that gave her her first clue.

This murder had happened recently.

She approached the medical examiner, who leaned over the victim and then sat up to close a vial.

"What've we got, Sanderson?"

Dr. Mort Sanderson was fresh out of med school and had one of the sharpest minds Reagan had ever had the pleasure of witnessing. His iron gut and quick intuition helped make him a valuable asset to their crime-solving community.

The young man pushed up his black-rimmed glasses using the back of his gloved hand. "Larry Meyer, age 48, killed by multiple stab wounds to the chest and abdomen. I would put time of death around 7:30 pm."

Reagan scowled and glanced at her watch. "That was only an hour ago."

Detective Whitney walked up beside her and nodded. "We've got officers canvasing the area, but I think the perp is long gone."

Reagan heard a sob nearby and looked up to see a woman sitting on the front steps, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. "Who's she?"

"The vic's wife—Eva Meyer," said Whitney. "She got home seconds after it all went down. Said she saw her husband struggling with the perp, who then escaped in their car."

"Did you get a description?"

"She said it was too dark to see the perp and all she saw of the vehicle was that it was a light-colored SUV."

Reagan's face screwed up. "That's it?"

Whitney sighed. "Yeah. She's got a BAC of .16. I'm surprised she got home in one piece."

Reagan rolled her eyes and muttered a curse of frustration.

What were the odds? It was extremely rare for someone to interrupt a murder. To then be so intoxicated that they couldn't relay important information was like a slap in the face to Reagan. It would make her job just that much harder.

Turning back to Sanderson, she asked, "Any sign of the weapon?"

"Not yet, but I did find this." He held up an evidence bag holding a folded piece of cloth. "It was on the ground under the vic's car."

"Chloroform?"

"I think so. I also found a trace of blood under his fingernails—hopefully we'll get some DNA from that. I'll send you the results of everything as soon as I can."

Reagan thanked him and turned toward Whitney. She took in the sight of scattered garbage from a spilled rollaway bin.

"What're you thinking?" the other detective asked.

"I'll need more information, but my gut is telling me this was a targeted hit, or an abduction gone wrong."

Whitney cracked a smile. "Your gut? I think Lieutenant Cole is going to want something more concrete than that."

_Friggin' Cole._ "You know all signs point to those things. And you also know the value of listening to your gut. It's gotten you out of some pretty hairy situations if I can recall."

"Oh no I agree with you, but you know Cole's gonna be a hard-ass about this."

"What's new?" Reagan grumbled.

Making her way over the victim's wife, she stopped and waited for the woman to look up. When she did, Reagan put on her best sympathetic expression. She had no tolerance for drunk drivers, but Eva had just lost her husband and witnessed something awful. Being short with her wouldn't get Reagan anywhere useful.

"Hi, Mrs. Meyer. Would I be able to ask you a few questions?"

Eva shrugged. When she spoke, her voice was slurred. "I guess. It's not like I have a choice, right?"

Reagan tried not to sigh again. "Where were you this evening?"

"Out with my girl friends."

"Where did you go with your friends?"

"Blaze. We had dinner and some wine."

'_Some.' Hah. Maybe a whole bottle? _

As much as Reagan wanted to say this, she refrained.

"I'll need access to your credit card records to verify your whereabouts at the time of the murder."

Eva's bloodshot eyes widened. "You think I did this?"

"I didn't say that—"

"My husband may have been an ass sometimes, but I would never kill him!" Eva raised her hand and dabbed a wadded tissue at the corners of her eyes.

Reagan cleared her throat, noticing a nasty bruise on Eva's forearm. "Did you come in contact with the murderer?"

"No! I got home and Larry was struggling with someone. When I got out of the car, they ran away and... and..." Eva's face crumpled and she started crying again.

Reagan gave Eva a moment, but it probably didn't matter when she asked, "How long has your husband been abusing you?"

Eva's sobs stopped at once. "What? Why would you say that?"

"You said he was an ass and you have fingerprint bruises near your wrist."

For a few seconds, the other woman said nothing. Then, "I wore a bracelet that, um..."

Reagan squatted, resting her elbows on her knees. "You don't have to lie to me, Eva. He can't hurt you anymore."

Eva began to cry again, but it was different than before. "It started last year. He thought I was having an affair. He'd get paranoid if any man even looked at me. I was always faithful, but whatever I said or did wasn't enough for him—he never believed me."

"Did you tell anyone what was happening?"

"Yes, my friends..."

"The same ones you saw tonight?"

Eva nodded.

"Did any of them leave dinner early? Or do you think they told anyone else about the abuse?"

Eva must have been sobering up because she seemed to understand where this was going. "No, no way. We all left at the same time and I only just told them tonight! There's no way..."

Reagan gave her a comforting smile and pat on the hand. "It's okay, Eva. This has been helpful. Take care of yourself. I'll be touch."

* * *

After questioning the neighbors, Reagan and Whitney met back at the precinct. The smell of old coffee greeted them as they walked inside and plopped down in their computer chairs. She glanced at the schoolroom clock above Cole's door. It was almost midnight.

Reagan could see the man himself through his office window, arguing with someone on the phone; an all too familiar sight.

"How long do you think we'll have to wait before he comes out here and demands answers?" Whitney asked, combing a hand through his chin-length blond locks. He took the California surfer vibe to heart and was constantly at odds with their bosses over his hair breaking the dress code.

"Just give it a minute. Once he sees us… Oh, I spoke too soon."

Cole slammed down his phone, ripped open his office door, and marched over to them.

"The chief wants a press conference in an hour! We're to put the public at ease, assure them that some yahoo won't slaughter them in their driveway."

"But that did happen…" Whitney began.

"I suspect it was a love triangle gone wrong. You said it yourself, Kay! The husband thought she was cheating."

"But she wasn't. He was abusing her."

Cole scoffed. "And you took her word for it? The woman was plastered."

"She had bruises—"

"Oh, hell, Kay! We all have bruises! Whitney over here is like a fucking peach. You look at him wrong and he turns black and blue!"

Reagan attempted a deep breath. "Sir, with all due respect, I think there's more to this."

"With what evidence?"

She exchanged a look with Whitney.

_Don't you dare mention your gut,_ was what his blue eyes said.

"The chloroform rag. I think he was supposed to be kidnapped but our perp was interrupted."

"That rag hasn't been tested yet."

"Then we should hold off on the press conference."

"That's not how this works, Kay, and you should know that by now! The chief has already sent down his orders—our job is to follow those orders."

Reagan swallowed her frustration and held her tongue until she could say, "Copy that, Lieutenant Cole," without wanting to throw up in her mouth.

"Good, because you're leading the press conference," he said, and walked away before she could respond.

* * *

"At approximately 7:30 last night, a man was murdered outside of his home in Gardena. We have not released his name yet, as we are still notifying extended family."

Reagan stared out at the sea of reporters, their flashbulbs jarring against the night sky.

"Detective!" they all yelled at once.

She picked one at random, a woman with bleach blonde hair and dazzling teeth.

"Have you made an arrest?"

"Not yet."

Another reporter immediately spoke up. "How was the victim killed?"

"He was stabbed."

"Do you have the murder weapon?"

"No, we do not. It was not recovered from the scene."

A reporter from the back called out, "Do you think the killer knew the victim?"

"It's possible, but we are still working to collect evidence—"

Reagan felt someone push her aside and Cole stepped in front of her, blocking the microphone. She tried to hide her surprise, knowing she was on camera, and simply chose to step back.

"Well, actually," he said, "we have reason to believe the killer is personally connected to the victim and his wife. It's early to speculate," but Reagan knew he would anyway, "but this may have been the result of a domestic dispute with a romantic third party." He continued on. "We want the public to know that they should feel safe in their homes, and that this was most likely not a random act of violence."

* * *

Reagan crawled into bed in the wee hours of the morning, hoping to catch a few hours of shut eye before the sun came up. She felt beaten down in so many ways but was too tired to think about it anymore.

Deacon didn't stir from his side of the bed until she slipped under the covers and pressed the palm of her hand against his bare back. She gently kissed his shoulder blade and he reached around for her hand, pulling it to his middle so it lay flat against his abdomen.

"Everything okay?" he whispered, his voice heavy with sleep.

She nodded, her hair grazing his back. She rested her cheek there and felt his even breaths. Everything was not okay, but in this spot, it seemed as though maybe it would be.


End file.
